Beautiful Things

Beauty met me one morning last week when I walked outside of the door. Her thick presence was romantic. Her scent revealed an urge to give me peace. I gladly accepted.

She came upon me once more in the afternoon in the form of a spider web. As big as a cymbal, it reminded me of determination, progress, and patience. I stood as close as I could without destroying it. Her fate was to be decided by yet another form of beauty . . . raindrops.  At that moment, she taught me about ebb and flow, diminishing beauty only to be beauty once again in another form.

I could hear within her silence the sound of change. Beauty’s window of transformation was without turmoil, apprehension, or pessimism. If she can change by natural happenings ever so elegantly, why can’t I?

That evening, I enjoyed a slice of the most perfect brie from Sweet Grass Dairy along with the most beautiful crisp pear picked from a tree on the plantation. The pear’s imperfect skin echoed the beauty of originality. She was indeed one of a kind. I was reminded that we are all one of a kind. I was pressed not to be afraid of change because that specific change within us is the only change in its existence. It is ours. All of the beautiful things are ours if we will have them.